


im sorry it took so long, im here now

by fw0g_gutz



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, OW, Pain, Whump, help me, i re wrote the execution, ishimondo - Freeform, ishimondo angst, this is my personal hell<3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28883334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fw0g_gutz/pseuds/fw0g_gutz
Summary: bright carnival lights and pain.I re-wrote Mondos execution from Takas POV plus a little after because i like pain.
Relationships: Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	im sorry it took so long, im here now

Bright carnival lights.

The roar of a motorbike.

Hauntingly cheerful music.

That's all that he could see before he fell to his knees and let out a scream, gut wrenching and guttural, mixed with the raw pain of lost love. Love that was sitting on the other side of chicken wire and love that was sat on a bike that thundered like a storm. 

A scream was all that could be heard over the music,

He was screaming, thrashing, and pounding his fists at a barrier that refused to move. It wouldn't shift and it was everything that kept him from the boy he was so sure was innocent. So, so sure. He had begged, begged over to be the one on the bike instead. He knew that he would rather die and would be happy to endure the punishment for the boy. Mondo went round and round the cage a million times until he was a black and purple blur and Taka was still screaming.

The bike slowed after what seemed like hours and the music came to a grinding halt.

A small package of butter fell out a machine.

Taka was being violently sick, everything he had eaten in the last few days and more had decided to vacate, almost as if he was scared that some part of him had been consumed. It seemed endless as tears ran down his face and he lay next to a puddle of his own vomit. Taka was still screaming.

There was acid in his throat. The monster kept on laughing the sound echoing around the chamber like some sort of bully, teasing him and dancing just out of his reach. He was clawing and scratching at everything, nothing, until he felt red hot liquid against his palms and a copper tang permeated over the smell of exhaust fumes and he still kept on raking his nails over his arms. 

again

again

again

As if it would bring Mondo back.

He screeched and it was as if something inside him and broken, snapped like a thread. 

The world faded away.

He didn't want anything anymore.

He stayed inside his room and slept, waking only to the pangs his stomach tortured him with, pangs he ignored. What if Mondo had been slipped into the kitchen by their black and white captor as some sort of sick joke, what if he was in the food, what if he contaminated the cutlery. Bile once again rose in his throat. He was sick in his trash bin, and he fell back asleep on the rough carpet. Eventually the worried knocks on his door lessened from hourly to only at mealtimes to barely at all. He hated he sound of them, almost dripping in pity after Sakura had carried him up from the execution chamber when he had blacked out. He only wanted to be blacked out. It had become a welcome relief from the sound of screaming and taunting music that played on loop. He knew what it had been like to be nothing at all but the biker had loved him into his own worth.

The biker who was dead.

He stank. He was completely alone once more. He traced the old scars that littered his skin. Mondo used to love them. He couldn't abide the sight, they were too close to memories of soft fingers dancing along the spiderweb lines and the smell of sweat and something that was so imperceptibly him that it hurt to think of. He could feel the arms wrap around him and hold him close like they once had.

The next night there was a note slipped under his door. Messy handwriting.

Escape? Such an unoriginal lie, but the one the killer had come up with anyway. 

He should go. He wouldn't have to live without him anymore. He wouldn't have to live. He wouldnt need to spend hours scrubbing whatever he could get his hands on to eat before giving up because he could still feel the butter beneath the pads of his fingers it didnt matter how long he scrubbed and how much soap or bleach was used, how many bottles of cleaning supplies he emptied, it was STILL FUCKING THERE. 

Better him than anyone else.

He made his way up the floors, step by dreadful step. He waited.

swing

crack

Pain blossomed over the back of his head, he fell backwards and collided with the floor. He rolled over, not to glimpse his attacker. He had no need for that. He only wanted comfort, and was unsure if it was in the physical coolness of the floor or emotional release from the prison he had made his mind into. The floor was refreshing. He breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes.

A soft smile in a cruel situation.

''I'm sorry it took so long bro. I'm here now''

**Author's Note:**

> sorry lol


End file.
